


second chances (we find them in the starlight)

by CreatorOfChaos



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, No Actual Character Death, Skip Westcott (mentioned) - Freeform, Thanos spidey-snapped Peter out of the mcu, an old and unfinished story I came back to after hearing about Disney and Sony, but at the same time... sorta?, rip MCU spidey lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 23:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreatorOfChaos/pseuds/CreatorOfChaos
Summary: There’s dust falling on him, dust falling around him, and suddenly he realizes that he isn’t surrounded by the dust: he’s becoming it. It’s inevitable. Their defeat was inevitable. Peter knows that, now, he knows there was nothing more he could’ve done. Nothing more he can do.That doesn’t mean he wants to go.





	second chances (we find them in the starlight)

When Peter Benjamin Parker was eight years old, he’d seen the stars for the first time. 

They were so small and bright. He’d always thought that the night sky was supposed to be really really dark— it was night, after all, and the world was a dark and scary place and night was supposed to be dark and scary too, and why on Earth couldn’t he see the stars in the city? Was it because of the p… he knew the word, he did, he really did- the pollution? The bad stuff? Peter knew all about bad stuff. All about pollution. He was covered in it. (Skip hadn’t been covered in it. (He’d been made of it)).

“Well, Pete,” Uncle Ben had explained, with all of the patience of a saint, “there’s always beauty around us and inside of us. We may be touched by pollution and think that all that beauty is gone, and now we’re just dirty”— Peter winced at that— “but the stars— and all the world’s hidden gifts— are still there, even if you can’t see them. Remember that, kiddo. If you ever forget, just look at the stars… and there’s your second chance. It’s in the starlight. It’s magic.”

“Magic is only unexplained science, Uncle Ben.” 

There was a pause. 

“... you really mean what you said, ‘bout second chances?”

“Really,” Uncle Ben had smiled, though there’d been a hint of pain in those endlessly kind eyes.

“Really-really?” 

“Really-really.” 

Maybe he was right. Maybe we are all born anew in the starlight.

___

Titan was bright. Peter hadn’t been prepared for the glare of the sun, and the magnificence of the stars. Peter hadn’t been prepared for the adrenaline racing through his veins, the pure strength that his fear drove him to exhibit. He had tried, and he had failed, and now he can’t help but think that Thanos was right. He was nothing but an— not an insect, they were bugs at most— insignificant arachnid. Arachnid-human. An insignificant arachnid-human that hadn’t been prepared for any of this.

Peter hadn’t been prepared for the truth. Peter hadn’t been prepared for the dust. Peter hadn’t been prepared for the pain. 

Something was wrong. Pain built up behind his eyes, ringing in his ears, and he could faintly make out the taste of dust coating his tongue. Gross. Helpful as always, the pain was his spider sense. The dust was… something else. _ Well, Peter, it was shitty while it lasted. _ Wait. Fuck. What about-

“Mr. Stark?”

He’s floating, then, cast away from himself and painfully connected all at once. He tries to hold on, but something pulls him away. He doesn’t stop fighting. After all, he’s a hero, and heroes never give up. At least, Peter thinks they don’t. Mr. Stark wouldn’t. Right, Mr. Stark. He’s gotta get to him. 

There’s so much dust. He closes his eyes, just for a moment. Just to blink. 

___

Peter Parker is twenty five and having the time of his life. He’s swinging and fighting and pure, sweet adrenaline drives him forward, always forward. He never looks back. He doesn’t think about what the news is saying (Spider-Menace, disgrace, _monster_), or what Aunt May must be thinking— _Peter sure does work late_— or what triple-J thinks of him. He’s on top of the fucking world.

Team ups with Captain America and Iron-Man, solo missions, quips, saving the little guy… he’s doing it all. Spider-Man is no menace, he’s a hero. At the very least, he’s trying to be one. Just like his webs are very unsuccessfully trying to stay connected to the side of this building. 

He’s tumbling, he’s falling, he’s-  
Peter is a high schooler, not in his twenties, he’s-

There’s a face, a voice. He doesn’t know their name, not yet, but he loves them with every atom, every cell that he consists of. 

Peter is twenty-five and annoyed, twenty-six and fond, twenty-seven and in love. 

But he’s not any of those things, right?

_Right?_

___

Eventually, it occurs to him that he’s not in his universe, or dimension, or whatever the fuck kind of thing makes up the paddles playing ping-pong with his very essence. In other words, _we’re not in Kansas anymore, Karen_. Not that Peter has ever been to Kansas. A webslinger in a tornado does not a successful mission make. 

Right. Realities. That. 

Somewhere between realities, Peter can feel every atom of himself stretching, stretching, stretching apart, and he thinks, borderline-hysterically, about the theory he learned in science class. Only a theory, only a thought, but isn’t that how all the greatest discoveries start out?

“One day, the universe will burn itself out. It will stretch so far that every black hole, star, _everything_ ceases to move. It all stops. In every universe, dimension, every single theory and every single potential reality- it stretches, and stretches, and stretches so thin that soon enough it’s forever still. There’s no escaping it. Forever silent, forever dark, forever still.”

Peter thinks he’s being stretched out, too. He thinks that maybe the theory is right, and it’ll all just stop. He thinks maybe the theory is wrong, and he’ll break apart and keep on stretching forever. He thinks maybe he’ll snap back into himself like a rubber band. He doesn’t think about how much it hurts. 

Peter tries to swim up to whatever surface, whatever reality, he calls home.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re alright.”

Peter sinks.

___

His given name isn’t Peter in this universe, that much he knows. His name is something else, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he’s in a body created by two X chromosomes but he knows he’s not a girl and he’s stressed and more than a little freaked out and he tries to search for parts of himself that he recognizes- oh. Oh, he’s still himself. Sorta. Kinda. Likes science? Check. Nerd/dork/geek ultimate combo? Check. Kind of (very) awkward? Oh, definitely check.  
He’s not himself, but he’s something close. 

There’s a lamp to his left, and it’s emitting warm light. He’s sitting on an armchair, his foot, and a blanket. It isn’t as uncomfortable as he’d think it would be. There’s a computer screen in front of him, and he’s stressed about something. About everything. In every single damn reality, he’s stressed. Parker luck. Or not-Parker luck. Whatever the hell his name is. He’s sick, too.

Damn. He has shit luck in every reality, it seems. 

Embracing the moment of calm in a whirlwind of calamity, he takes a deep breath- 

(A hero called Mysterio, a man named Quentin Beck, a betrayal, _Peter Parker is spider-man_, but he didn’t kill him he didn’t he didn’t he _didn’t_)

-he gasps, because he’s back but there’s nothing he can do he’s going to die _he’s going to die and it hurts_

_Where is he_

_Why isn’t he him_

_He’s stretching and stretching and stretching too far and he thinks about the theory again, and wonders whether he’ll freeze or break or snap back into himself and ash is falling away from him there’s blood on his hands and the blood turns into ash, too, everything is ash and he chokes on dust, and bites back a gag when he realizes the dust is him_

_He has an answer to his question, now, because he froze and broke and now he’s snapping back into himself, he’s imploding_

_Something is broken_

“I-I don’t know- I don’t know what’s happening-”

_and he knows what’s broken can’t be fixed_

“-I don’t want to go-”

_All of the little spare bits of Peter slam together and he falls, he clings on to salvation, clings onto life because he’s a kid and it hurts and even though he knows it isn’t going to save him he still wants his goddamn dad_

“-I don’t want to go-”

_He can’t hold on any longer; he’s been stretched too far_

“- Sir, please-”

_There’s nothing Mr. Stark can do, but he can’t help but beg, he can’t help but cry for help because it hurts it hurts it hurts_

“-Please, I don’t wanna-”

_It hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts_

“-I don’t wanna go-”

_ithurtsithurtsithurts_

It doesn’t hurt anymore. Logically Peter knows that’s bad, knows that it actually does hurt but he’s too far gone to register it. He digs into himself, and remembers. He can let go. He’s in the starlight. Second chances, and all that. 

“And if you died, well… I feel like that’s on me.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

___

Somewhere, in a far off universe, in a place untouched by and yet choking in the mad Titan’s grasp, Peter Parker’s eyes fly open. 

It’s time for a new story to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually posted this. Wow. Didn’t know I had it in me. 
> 
> First official post on AO3, hell yeah!


End file.
